


Oxford Fashion

by mistyzeo



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something delightfully nostalgic and quaint about pushing a man's thighs together and watching him lose his senses that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oxford Fashion

It was convenient that we had both spent time in our formative years at public school, where the boys are rowdy and randy and inventive. Convenient, I say, because it only took a slight suggestion of intent to alert my friend Sherlock Holmes to what it was I wanted from him. It was not that we did not enjoy the occasional bout of buggery– indeed, we enjoyed it quite regularly– but there is something delightfully nostalgic and quaint about pushing a man's thighs together and watching him lose his senses that way.

Holmes was panting already, slack and soft-mouthed and sweating beneath me, his cock hard against his belly and his neck and chest flushed with heat. It was indecently late, near midnight, and I had wanted to take him to bed for hours. But I had had to curb my urges in the face of his unwavering dedication to his chemical experiment, and it wasn't until he leapt from his stool with a shout of triumph that I could take advantage of his success as a reason to celebrate.

I knelt beside Holmes on the bed, caressing his lean sides and pressing kisses to his collarbone, while he murmured and squirmed, his fingers in my hair. I worked my way down his belly, dipping my tongue into his navel for a teasing moment, and instead of taking his prick in my mouth I pushed his leg up and began to kiss the tender inside of his thigh.

"Oh," he sighed, "Watson, _yes._ "

The petroleum jelly was warm in its glass jar beside my knee, and I scooped out a generous helping. When I began to apply it to the crux of Holmes's legs, he spread them wide and reached above himself for a hold on the headboard of his bed. He was all long lines and beautiful, pale skin, and I slid my tongue up the rigid length of his cock as I massaged his thighs.

"Get up," he said, tossing his head, "come here, now, _please_."

I love to make him beg. He is magnificent when he does, and it means I have stolen all of his attention for myself and he hasn't a single other thought in his enormous brain besides the desire to have me make him come.

I pushed his knees together and down to the bed, and then climbed astride his lap. I leaned down to kiss him, and he licked my lip and moaned. The muscles in his arms were straining as he held on, eager and breathless, and I lowered myself to press my cock between his slick thighs.

"God," I groaned, my eyes closing, the warmth of his body enveloping me. He locked his ankles together, making the space between his legs tighter, and grunted encouragingly.

"Come on, old boy," he muttered, jerking his hips up. I planted my knees and elbows on the bed and began to thrust, rocking slowly into the slippery, smooth channel. This was the best part of having one another this way: hardly any preparation was needed, and in a passionate embrace it could be achieved with only a moment's notice.

Holmes's hand stole between us, rubbing at his prick, and I nuzzled the line of his jaw and his tender throat. He tipped his head back, encouraging me, and I worried a little mark just below his ear, sucking on the skin until it reddened. He moaned, and the other hand left the headboard as well to clutch at my hair again. I teased him with the bristle of my moustache until he squirmed.

"Faster," he gasped, rocking his pelvis against mine to torment me. My abdomen was quivering with the effort to stay above him, and my prick was stiff and huge between his thin legs. I ducked my head to watch it thrusting up and down, and Holmes bit the shell of my ear. "I said, faster!"

"Hush," I said, jogging my hips up sharply so that now every thrust rubbed smoothly against his sac and perineum. He moaned, thighs flexing, and I echoed him. I did go faster though, shorter and sharper thrusts driving my flushed cock swiftly between his legs, and his hand in my hair tightened.

I heard him say, "Watson, oh _hell_ ," and his cock leapt in his hand, and then he was coming, arching his back and straining against me, spilling his warm seed between us. I groaned when he did, the rhythmic, uncontrollable twitching of his muscles torturous and heavenly at once. I was rushing towards my own orgasm, hot and powerful in my gut, and when Holmes gave me one more bite on the neck I cried out and reached it, shuddering all over and pulsing wet and slick between his legs. He moaned softly, satisfied, and slipped his hand out from between us to wrap it around my back as I sagged onto him.

He kissed my temple and rolled me neatly off of him, and I lay weakly on my back as he parted his thighs and wiped at my emission with the flannel he kept tucked under the mattress for this very purpose. He cleaned himself up efficiently, gave me a quick wipe out of courtesy, and squirreled the flannel away again.

I groped across the bed for him, and when he lay down I curled my arms around him. He put his head on my shoulder and his hand on my belly, and then reached over my head to turn out the lamp. 

"Quick as boys," he murmured.

"Lucky we haven't got to do it in the dark," I said, running my fingers through his hair. "I'd hate to miss the look on your face."

"Hush," he said, and I felt him smile against my skin.


End file.
